I Wanna Write You a Love Song
by Lady Hermione C
Summary: Callandra is a shy young singer at the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius is a miserable young employee at Gringotts. What brings them together? A marriage law imposed by the Ministry for mysterious reasons they refuse to tell.....
1. Meet Callandra, Meet Sirius

AN: Hey everyone!!! I want to clear a few things up before the story starts. Okay. Sirius is nineteen, and he's been out of Hogwarts for two years. Callandra has been out for only one year- she's eighteen. The reason I chose the name "Callandra" is because in Greek it means "Singing Bird", which is the appropriate name for her. "Alethea" is from the Greek name Althea, which means healing, but it is of English origin, meaning "True", which Alethea certainly is. The name Papadimitrou is Greek, pronounced, Papa-di-me-tree-oh. Her father is obviously Greek, because his name is "Nick", which is an incredibly popular Greek name. I based the character of Callandra off of myself, and Alethea after my alter ego. I share a lot with Callandra, (it was unintentional, but after I wrote the chapter, I basically realized I was writing myself) including my talent for singing, but my shyness for displaying it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! BTW, I have highlighted the chorus of the song in bold so that it's easier to read. Yes, I did write it myself. Toodles!!!

"Before you say yes to her,

Listen to what I tell,

That girl has something up her sleeve,

Don't fall under her spell!

I've seen her with some other boys,

I know what she can do,

She'll eat your heart for breakfast,

Then she'll walk all over you!

**Oh, she's a minx,**

**She knows a hex or two,**

**Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,**

**Or the jinx----- will be on you.**

I know her smile may be pretty,

Her eyes like midnight magic,

But looks can be deceiving,

The truth, let's have it!

**Oh, she's a minx!**

**She knows a hex or two,**

**Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,**

**Or the jinx----- will be on you.**

Her witchcraft comes in handy,

She knows her tricks real well,

But don't cave into her voodoo,

'Cause it's your heart you're gonna sell!

**Oh, she's a minx,**

**She knows a hex or two,**

**Don't get to cosy with that sphinx,**

**Or the jinx------ the jinx---- will be on you-------!"**

A pretty young witch belted out her last note, embellishing it with a difficult vibrato. With a final beat on the drum, she ended her song. The bar instantly erupted in applause. Bouquets were conjured and she was bombarded with flowers of all varieties and shrill wolf whistles. Modestly, she curtsied and waved at everyone in the bar before hopping off of the low platform she was standing on and walking quickly down the rickety hallway to the room she had lived in for seven months. She unlocked an old, black walnut door with a gold number 7 gleaming on the front and she ducked inside, shutting and bolting the door behind her. She had had a singing gig here at the Leaky Cauldron for several months now. Old Tom, the bartender, had asked her to stay on and sing every Friday night for room, board, and a small salary almost since she first got out of Hogwarts a year ago. She smiled thinking of her sweet, old friend.

Back during the summer before her seventh year, she desperately needed money to buy her school books, and Tom had hired her to be a barmaid and a dishwasher, and stay at the pub until she could pay her way into school. One day, after the dinner crowd had cleared out, she was in the back washing dishes.

_**Flashback **_

"I dropped a bit of fairy dust inside the pot,

Swirled it around till it was good an' hot,

One drop,

Two drop,

I'm makin' a love potion!"

_She was rinsing a plate of hummus that a Middle Eastern wizard had requested, (and she had painstakingly made to fit his specifications) and singing an old diddy along with the Wizarding Wireless Network. Singing always made the work pass by more pleasantly, (even if it was hummus). She wiped the rim dry just as she sang the final verse._

"I'm makin' a love potion!"

_She set the dry dish on top of her mounting stack, and just as she was picking up another plate, she was startled when she heard clapping behind her. In her astonishment, she dropped the china, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Fumbling with her wand in her apron pocket, she pointed that at the shards of glass that were scattered on the floor._

_"Reparo," she stuttered, picking the repaired dish off of the floor and placing it in the soap suds that were filled up in the sink. Then she turned nervously to face her employer. _

_"Sir, I-I didn't know anyone else was in here," she said, throwing out a feeble excuse._

_"You have a delightful voice, Miss Papadimitrou! Simply delightful!" gushed Tom._

_"I-I just like singing along with the radio, that's all. My mom's a singer," she replied automatically. The first part wasn't true. She wanted to grow up and be a star like Celestina Warbeck, charming everyone's hearts with her jazz and sweet love songs._

_"But why let such a beautiful voice wither away, with no one to hear it? When we have a gift, Miss Papadimitrou, we are awfully stingy if we don't share it with others! Especially if it's value is ever abundant!" he reasoned, flashing a sweet, toothless grin at her._

_"I suppose so," she murmured, avoiding his eyes._

_"Why don't you sing this Friday night? I can't seem to book anyone, and the last time I had no entertainment on Friday night, half of the pub had vacated by eleven, and I would almost guarantee they all disappeared to that establishment run by Rosmerta in Hogsmeade," he wheedled her persuasively. She cursed his ability to send her on an impressive guilt trip._

_"I couldn't!" she blurted. He looked at her knowingly._

_"Well, I guess I could, but-" she trailed off, looking at the floor again._

_"But what?" he chuckled. "You're afraid that someone will think you're good?" She laughed a little. It did seem so silly that she objected when he put it that way. Tom strode slowly across the room from the door and coaxed her quietly._

_"Callandra," he said in a firm, but understanding voice. "We're all scared of something. But if we face what we fear, then we cross one more thing off of our list of things that we're afraid of!" he now held her unwilling eyes in a steady gaze._

_"Will you sing one song for me?" he asked her seriously. She looked at him unsurely, fidgeting with her apron as if it would delay the inevitable moment where she would either appease him or let him down. Her mouth opened as if to give consent, but she seemed to reel it back in. She let out a heavy sigh._

_"One song?" she asked tentatively._

_"One song," he assured her. She was silent for several moments more. She turned her back to him and picked up a dish and began to scrub it. _

_"Alright then," she agreed softly._

_**End Flashback **_

Callandra sat at her vanity examining her face in the mirror. She contentedly sighed at her reflection, and began slowly and steadily removing the hair pins out of the mass of strawberry curls she had piled on the back of her head. She hummed a Celestina Warbeck song under her breath as she began taking off her jewelry, starting with her pearl earrings, then a gold bracelet and finally, a large gold locket that hung from a long, fine chain under her robes. She shook her hair out contentedly, running her fingers through it and pulling it down to it's natural length at the small of her back. She was about to get up when a flash of color caught her eye. She looked back into the mirror. Tucked into the corners were photographs; the one in the bottom left hand corner was of her and her best friend, Alethea. They were donned in black school robes with blue and gray scarves and hats advertising their house high up in the Quidditch stands; Alethea winked at her in true Alethea-style. In the upper right corner was a photograph of herself, reading a book. She watched as she nuzzled her feet underneath a blanket and flipped a page in front of the fire. But in the bottom right hand corner was a picture of two middle-aged people. The picture was still; it was obviously not a wizard photograph.

Her face had altered: her brow was furrowed and her lips were curled into a decidedly sad frown. Her eyes filled. She reached for the locket that she had just discarded on the small dressing table. She pried the two windows apart. On the left, a man identical to that in the other picture was situated. Her father grinned at her; the picture had been taken when she was thirteen and they had been on summer holiday in Italy. Her father had strawberry gelato smeared across his cheek, and the Coliseum was just visible from behind his head. Opposite him was a woman, whose bold pearly whites seemed to light up the entire photograph. Her mother smiled at her cheekily, her confidence evident through the picture just as it had been in real life. Tenderly, Callandra kissed each of them and whispered "Good-night," before closing it together again. She could almost see the two pictures kissing each other on the inside. She blew out the candle on her dresser and pulled her dress over her head. She laid it over the top of the dressing screen and withdrew from her closet an ivory floor-length cotton nightgown that seemed to slip over her skin like cream. She crawled beneath her fresh, crisp sheets and blew out the candle on her bedside.

She could not stop thinking of her parents. Her mom had been a singer at a restaurant in London for as long as she could remember. Katerina Reynolds had always wanted to sing, and when she turned eighteen she moved to the city and began auditioning for every musical that was holding them. She gained a lot of experience and plenty of good feedback, but directors complained that she couldn't dance well enough, or they needed a soprano, not an alto. While she still remained hopeful, she learned one day how tough a business show biz really was. She had walked in on her rival giving the casting director... shall we call them "pleasing attentions"? Anyway, she was fed up and decided that she was just going to sing in a restaurant until she could get through all the nonsense they were throwing at her. And it was there that she met Callandra's father.

Nick Papadimitrou was an ambitious young waiter who wanted to own his own restaurant one day, working evening shifts to pay for his tuition in cooking school, and he caught the pretty vocalist's eye after spilling a loaded tray of plum pudding, roast, calamari and Sheppard's pie on her only black dress. After they worked the issue out, he worked up the courage to ask the strong, vivacious singer on a date.Three years later they were sitting on the floor playing with their daughter. She remembered the first time they had come to watch her sing at the Leaky Cauldron. After Tom assured her that she only had to sing one song, word must have spread through the grapevine, and someone, (she highly suspected Alethea) must have owled her parents and assisted them into the pub. It wasn't until she was through, and they had enveloped her in a tight embrace that she even discovered they were there.

"We didn't want to make you nervous, sweetie," her father explained.

"I was nervous already," she had laughed in response, squeezing her parents tightly. It was that night that they gave her the locket. On the front her initials were engraved. Her memory traced over the smooth lines. CMP. A tear leaked from her eye and ran down her cheek. She missed them so much! If only they could see her now.

* * *

Sirius Black leant back in his chair, legs propped up on his desk. He had been out of Hogwarts now for two years; and what had he to show for it? Hardly anything at all. During days he worked an easy desk job at Gringotts, and at night he trained to become and Auror. Then he slept, and started all over again. This was most definitely _not_ how he had imagined his life after school.Somehow, he had picture that he'd rent a flat and BAM! suddenly he'd be an Auror and everything would fall into place. But he still had 6 months of rigorous training to complete. James and Lily had gotten married month before last; Sirius hardly saw his best friend anymore. Peter was now an errand boy for the village of Hogsmeade, and Remus worked two jobs: at Flourish and Blotts by day, and at a Muggle grocery store in the evening. Sure, there was the occasional exciting mission for the Order of the Phoenix, and of course there were meetings where he got to catch up with his mates a bit, but he missed his Hogwarts days. He smiled as he reminisced. Lounging by the lake, pranking unsuspecting second years, romping with Moony and Prongs in the moonlight, and girl he wanted... Merlin! He hadn't had a date since right before he turned eighteen! 

"So that's what's so bloody wrong with me," he muttered. "I haven't had a good snog for over a year!"

He couldn't even enjoy the free tickets he got from James all the time, (he was a seeker for the Tornadoes) because his job consumed so much of his time. He felt frustrated; shouldn't he be somewhere by now? His best mate was married with his dream job and rolling in gold, while he toiled away with training and counting rubies for old ladies. It didn't seem right! He was nineteen, for crying out loud! His life should have direction by now!

Sirius furrowed his brow. He whipped his legs off of his desk, and tucked the chair in. Pulling off his robes, he stuffed them into a tattered old bag and pulled on a leather jacket in it's stead. He grabbed his keys off the table and tossed them in the air, before dropping them in his pocket.

"Thank Merlin it's Friday," he muttered grumpily to himself. No Auror training tonight, and he got to sleep in tomorrow. Flicking off the lamps with his wand, he locked his office door and began walking quickly across the polished marble floors and out into the fresh evening air. He jogged past all the closed shops and made his way into the crowded Leaky Cauldron. A woman's voice met his ears. _Damn! she's fine! _Sirius thought to himself, listening to her singing. _Her voice isn't bad either! In fact, it was great!_

"Oh, she's a minx,

She knows a hex or two,

Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,

Or the jinx---- the jinx------will be on you!

He paused on his way towards the door that led into London. Instead, he stopped and listened to the voice in his head. _There, Sirius. You talk about wanting a date and a beautiful, talented girl appears! Just go ask her if she'd like to have dinner tomorrow night!_ Sirius started pushing through the crowd.

"Excuse me- yeah, I need through- thanks! -pardon- ouch! watch the toes!" he exclaimed. At last he reached the front, only to find that his potential date had-

"She's gone!" he said angrily.

After all that he had put up with that day, the first sign of a relief comes and is pulled out from under him. Shaking his head, he parts the crowd more easily and heads out the door. He locates his motorbike and gets on it, before taking off and letting the wind blow through his hair, (the first good thing that _actually_ happened to him that day).

AN: What'd you think? I would really appreciate feedback if you want to give it, and if not, that's cool too. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!


	2. The Daily Prophet

AN: Special thanks to anyavioletta, my only reviewer! For your kindess, sincerity, and encouragement, I hereby dedicate this chapter to you. Thank you!

Callandra was awoken in the bright, early morn by an incessant, loud and increasingly annyoing rapping on her door. She always slept in on Saturday, (when you work late on Friday, you usually do) and she was not happy about being interrupted from her lovely sleep. In her morning confusion, she groggily tried to push the covers off of her legs, and staggered blindly out of bed.

"Coming," she called in her low morning voice. The knocking paused. She dragged her feet over to her dresser and pulled her dressing gown out of its pathetic heap onto her shoulders. The pounding started again.

_"¡Abra esta puerta inmediatamente, Callandra! Usted no creerá_-" the muffled voice shouted from without. Callandra sighed, put-out. The only person she knew who could speak fluent Spanish was her friend Alethea. Her father was from Puerto Rico, and took the liberty of teaching his only daughter, (Alethea had four brothers, but no sister) his native language. His wife, Elizabeth, was English, (she met him when she was on holiday in his country). Therefore, Alethea had a unique blend of entrancing features that stopped many a man in his tracks. Her face had an exquisite, Hispanic complexion, with a pert Enlish nose and lips, and sweet, ocean blue eyes. Her hair was dark, (highlighted in a naturally most unnatural way,) running pin straight down to her shoulder blades. Despite her sweet appearance, Alethea was incredibly feisty, and had told many an impertinent berk off with her sharp, Spanish outbursts.

Callandra pulled open the door. "Finally, Chica! I've been trying to reach you all morning! You will never believe what those _arrogante, la cabeza de alfiler, la seta que ensucia, asqueroso, glotón, los sapos del manipulativo _at the Ministry have done now!" she exclaimed in her rolling, beautiful accent.

"Alethea! No foul language in my dwelling!" _Even if I can't understand it,_ she thought. Callandra protested as Alethea welcomed herself into the room. "Come in," Callandra said under her breath sarcastically.

"No, no, Callandra. They've never done anything like this before. At first, I didn't believe my _ojos, _but the _papel_ does not lie. Look, Callie," Alethea said. She held up a newspaper and let it unfurl. Callandra's eyes widened at the large, bold headline that seemed to comsumed the page. She grabbed it from Alethea's hands and began to read it, her eyes flashing back and forth across the page rapidly.

**By lawful decree, the Ministry of Magic has issued an international law requiring all those who wish to remain in the Wizarding community to submit to marriage. Those who are minors who have not yet completed their magical schooling will have one year to choose their spouse, meaning that before they turn eighteen they must have formed an engagement. Those who are currently eligible for marriage, however, will have their name randomly selected from a lottery and matched with their spouse, whose name will be disclosed to them within 24 hours. A wedding must occur between the two by the day expressed in the letter they recieve, or else a penalty of either two courses will be issued, the first being stripped of your wand, magical memory, and dispatched from the Wizarding community, or a fine of 2,000 galleons and six weeks imprisonment in the fortress of Azkaban. All couples must live with each other at the same residence, must share a title, and remain faithful to each other, unless the Ministry of Magic sees fit to repeal this law, in which case all marriages will be dissolved unless by the will of the two parties, or if a child has been produced. The Ministry has chosen to keep the reasons for this law undisclosed until further notice, and all Ministry officials have been sworn to confidentiality. This law does not include magical creatures such as elves, hags, goblins, centaurs, vampires, giants, or werewolves or any other creature whose blood is not strictly human. **

"I don't believe this," Callandra mumured.

"¡No revelado mi culo!" Alethea returned.

"But how- how could this happen? Why? Why do they want us married? Do they honestly think they won't have a revolt on their hands the minute that the majority of Daily Prophet subscribers have seen this law? How do they expect this to work? You can't force people into a marriage and expect it to be functional! Marriage doesn't work that way!" Callandra reasoned. Suddenly, she got a suspicious look on her face.

"Alethea... you didn't make this up did you? You know, just to get a good laugh out of me?" Alethea huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Sure, Chica. I invented it all. You don't have to get _casado._ I just thought last night, 'Wouldn't it be a hilarious joke if I made Callandra think she had to get married?'" Alethea took her abruptly by the arm and marched her to the door, throwing it open and leading her forcibly down the hallway.

"Alethea, what are you-" They were looking at the Leaky Cauldron packed to the windows with angry people, standing on top of tables, chairs, bar stools, shouting angry expletives about the Ministry incredibly reminiscent of Alethea's.

"Whose the bloody Ministry to tell us we 'ave to get married?" a gruff man shouted, lifting his mug of ale into the air in protest, slopping it around.

"Wha's this? I don't want a bloomin' wife! I had one of those ten years ago, and I don't ever wan' un' again!" another drunkard hollered.

"The Ministry can't just pick out an oaf for us to call husband!" A woman exclaimed. Alethea piped up.

"Yeah! Why can't we choose our own bloody oaf?!" She was answered with a resounding, "Yeah!"

"I 'ope I get the gal in the nighty," a man called out crudely. Callandra turned red and pulled Alethea back down the hallway and into her room again. She slammed the door behind her.

"I pity the women who end up with those crude _imbéciles,_" Alethea scoffed.

"So this is real, right?" Callandra asked seriously, her voice beginning to sound slightly upset.

"No joke," Alethea said grimly, shaking her head. Callandra quietly stepped behind her changing screen and began changing. Alethea, meanwhile drew up a table and began preparing a small breakfast, all the while muttering curses in Spanish under her breath. She slammed down two tea cups, filled them with hot water from her wandtip, and placed tea bags in them. Two pumpkin pasties served as sustenence. Callandra came out from behind her panel breathlessly in a blue dress with a full skirt. She sat down across from Alethea, her hands nervously trying to secure her messy, curly bun with two long pins.

"Calm down, Callie! We're going to enjoy breakfast and pretend this doesn't exist, and then we're going to decide how to proceed," Alethea soothed in her calming, delicous accent.

"They've already decided how we're going to proceed, Ally!" Callandra said in a voice that was unusually loud and disturbed for her.

"Maybe so, _señorita,_ but we after we've gone through our _lenguaje declamatorio balístico,_ we have to think and react rationally or we will turn ourselves over to our negativity, and the entire situation will come out wrong because we chose for it to," she advised sagely. Callandra sighed and smiled slightly at her friend.

"Where did this come from? I'm supposed to be the rational one! You're supposed to be the Puerto Rican who curses in _L'espagnol_, and _dit que les bâtards vont à l'enfer._"

"So the French lessons are coming along well then?" Alethea teased. "I still don't see why you didn't learn a useful language, like Spanish."

"Spanish is pretty, but I don't know how well I could pull it off in the same feisty way as you. _Je suis plus convenu à galliards que le tango." _

"You really are getting good! I do wish you were learning Spanish, though. Then we could have conversations that no one else could understand!"

"No one can understand our conversations anyway!" Callandra joked, nudging her friend in the ankle with her foot. "But, I do think that being bilingual is an incredibly invaluable skill. I somehow picture being in France someday, conversing with one of the Parisian citizens for directions to the Eiffel Tower, or L'Arc de Triomphe. Besides, there's no law saying that you can't learn French, and that I can't learn Spanish! Maybe we can be _trilingual_ someday!"

"_Si, si_. Eat your breakfast. I didn't pay seven sickles for it to just sit there," Alethea conceded, happy to have effectively distracted her best friend from the (literally and figuratively) heartless reality they faced. The less either of them thought about it right now, the better.

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James stared at the headline that dominated the front page of the paper in awe. MARRIAGE LAW INSTUTED BY MINISTRY: ALL ELIGIBLE WIZARDS AND WITCHES TO WED. _Thank Merlin, I'm married_, he thought to himself. He read on and on to the bottom part, where it said-

"This law does not include magical creatures such as elves, hags, goblins, centaurs, vampires, giants, or _werewolves_ or any other creature whose blood is not strictly human! I'll show you strictly human-" he started ranting, before realizing something. Sirius had to get married. Sirius was going to be affected by this law.

"Padfoot? Married?!?!" James laughed out loud.

"Sirius is getting married?" Lily asked alarmed, entering the kitchen. "When did this happen?" she demanded.

"Just this morning," James said, turning the paper around to face her. Lily's expressions seemed to slide down her face simlilarly like the glass in her hand to the floor. She ignored the shattered glass and splattered pumkin juice in the floor, and instead read the article hungrily.

"Oh, my..." she muttered while James cleaned up the mess and repaired the glass with two swishes of his wand.

"Do you think Sirius knows about this yet?" Lily asked concernedly.

"I highly doubt it. Sirius sleeps until noon on Saturday," James replied.

"I think you should go to him, Jamesie," Lily coaxed.

"Lils, I would, but... I dunno. Seems like an uncomfortable message to relay," he argued.

"All the same, I think that it would be better for him if someone were there when he learned about this. If it were you, wouldn't you want 'Padfoot' there?" she retorted convincingly.

"Fine," James said grudgingly. "Fine!" he said loudly at Lily's retreating back. Sighing, he walked into the living room and threw some green powder into the fire.

"Number 16 Devia Court," he said clearly, before being whisked through the chimney, and clean on through to London from Godric's Hollow. He landed in the clean and unused fireplace of Sirius large, empty, and gloomy house. After Sirius had graduated from Hogwarts, he had jumped around from little apartment to little apartment, but after a year, he decided that he was tired of moving. It wasn't satisfying to be in one place and in another the next week. He had found a wonderful, spacious townhouse. Lily of course pressured him to get it because she thought it was "too pretty to let go of". It was just before he was about to walk away from it because of his lack of funds, when his Uncle Alphard passed on, and he left everything he had to Sirius. Sirius had been mildly close to his uncle, and though he didn't see him often, he mourned his loss. He went and exchanged a portion of his money and discovered it takes more pounds to equal galleons, so he was even richer in the Muggle world than in the Wizarding world. He paid cash for the place, (much to the surprise and suspicion of the realtor) and moved in a week later. It was surprisingly bare- about the only rooms in the house that had anything in them were the living room, (filled with Sirius' bachelor days couch) a small table in the kitchen, and the bedroom he slept in. Lily nagged him for awhile about it, but Sirius visited them more often than vice versa, so she had quit after awhile.

A window was open, (for the Daily Prophet owl so he wouldn't have to wake up) and the paper was laying on the table in the small dining area. James sighed, dreading his task of waking Sirius up on his beloved day of sleeping in to tell him that he had to get married. He went into the kitchen and took a kettle out from underneath the stove, filling it with water and letting it start to boil. His mum had always said tea was the best thing to give anyone when... well, when they were distressed, or things weren't going right. He started toasting some bread and got out some marmalade his wife had sent over, before tackling the task he was dreading. He went back into the living room and quietly walked up the stairs, before walking down the hallway to where Sirius' room was. He pushed open the door to find Sirius sprawled crazily across his mattress, sheets hanging off his ankles, comforter lying in a wadded mess at the foot of the bed, and the pillows shoved off the sides, onto nightstands, and some even managing to stay on by falling prey to Sirius' fierce grip around them.

James never remembered Sirius as a restless sleeper. He had, of course, made a mess, but no more than any of them did. He moved across the room, and decided he would make this as light as possible. He grabbed one of the pillows off the floor and wacked Sirius hard over the head with it, ( well, maybe not light in the _literal_ sense).

"Wake up! Wake up! It's time to come downstairs and eat toast and marmalade!" James shouted. Sirius' disgruntled face peered at the clock.

"Bloody hell, Prongs! It's only 10:15! You know I like to enjoy my sleep on Saturdays!" he snapped unhappily at him.

"I know, I know. But I, er, have practice tonight, and I wanted to see you today," James lied. He never had practice on Saturday.

"Oh, bugger off and give a man five more minutes. I'll be down," he replied grouchily.

"Okay, but only because I know _you won't fall asleep again and blow me off_," James emphasized loudly.

"Not so loudly!" Sirius mumbled, waving his hand in dismissal, burying his face back into the sheets.

"Alright... but for safety, I think I'll just do... this!" James said mischeviously, before flinging open his curtains.

"Grrrrrh! Prongs! Get OUT now! I will see you in five minutes time!" Sirius roared, throwing a pillow at his head and missing. James laughed.

"See you in a minute, sleepy-head!"

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Sirius stumbled down the stairs (ten-minutes later, mind you) wearing yesterday's jeans and slipping a gray shirt over his head to find James sitting at his table with a stack of toast, marmalade, and tea. "You made breakfast," Sirius observed.

"Yep," James said cheerily, but thinking nervously instead about the newspaper he was sitting on that was scorching his hind end.

"Lily would be upset if she knew that you had neglected her world famous marmalade!" he sang, taking another bite of his toast.

"Well, don't tell her then," Sirius grumbled, sliding into the seat opposite his fellow Marauder and crunching into his toast. His eyebrows raised slightly in appreciation.

"You're right, Prongs! This is really good stuff! Would it be too much to ask Lily-pad to make some more for me?" he asked.

"Well, I hope you want it for life then, 'cause once Lily starts cooking, she doesn't know how to stop! I didn't know how homey she was in school, but I sure have learned since we started dating! I actually rather like it," he mused. "It makes me think of my mum." The two ate in silence for a few minutes, Sirius growing consistently more awake and pleasant while James stuffed his mouth with toast in guilt. He finally blurted out,

"Sirius, I came here, actually, to tell you something. It was actually, I admit, one of the two occasions where Lily has actually had to force me to come and see you."

"I thought you wanted to spend the day with me?" Sirius asked, slightly hurt.

"It's not that I don't, Padfoot, don't get me wrong," James amended. "But this news is, well- it's life-altering," he explained.

"Is Lily pregnant or something?" Sirius asked baldly. James turned bright red.

"That's beside the point..." he mumbled.

"Lily's pregnant?!?!" Sirius said, jumping out of his seat.

"Padfoot, will you just shut up about it?! Lily doesn't want anyone to know yet! There's still eight months until it matters anyway!" Sirius smirked at him.

"Fine, but I call godfather," he said cheekily, sitting back down in his chair. James fumed for a moment to get back to his original object.

"Padfoot, will you listen please? It's really important!"

"Just spit it out," Sirius said, taking a sip of his tea. James withdrew the paper he was sitting on and slapped it down in front of Sirius. Instantly, tea splattered all over his face.

"Ahh, gross!" James said, standing up and wiping a blend of Sirius saliva and Earl Grey off of his glasses and face.

"Ma-mar-married?" Sirius stuttered, eyes transfixed on the page.

"Read on," James said grimly. He did.

"I have to get married," Sirius said flatly.

"I call best man," James said quietly out of Sirius' earshot.

AN: Okay, so I'm hoping that I get more reviews this chapter, (I really would appreciate them, but no pressure). Here are the translations, mainly Spanish, but a little French at the end. Alethea is a funny character, based a bit off my alter ego, but I really am embodied in Callandra. I sort of wrote this story for two reasons: One, to let you guys get to know what I'm like, Two, so I could more easily imagine my romance with Sirius Black. ; ) Sirius lives on 16 Devia Court. 16 is my favorite number for some random, strange reason so i used it for his address, however the "Devia" holds more meaning. It means "Lonely" in Latin. I have been listening to Heartbreak Hotel by Elvis lately, so I'm incredibly hooked on Sirius living on "Lonely Street".

(1) Open this door, immideately,Callandra! You won't believe-

(2) arrogant, pin-headed, toadstool besmirching, foul, greedy, manipulative toads

(3) eyes, paper

(4) Undisclosed my arse!

(5) Morons

(6) Young Lady, Ballistic Rant

(7) Spanish, -tells those bastards to go to hell

(8) I'm more suited for galliards than the tango.


	3. Deal With It

AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I can't even begin to tell you how busy I've been! Anyway, I tried to develop the relationship of mentor/grandfather that Tom and Callandra have; I've always thought that Tom was a quiet sage- a toothless Dumbledore. He and Callandra have a strong relationship, and part of her (though she doesn't conciously consider it) will miss Tom. Another relationship I outlined in this chapter is Sirius and Lily. They also have a parent to child sort of relationship; Lily obviously sees that Sirius needs nurturing, and though she is his best friend's wife, she tries to mother him and make him feel better about things, (while nagging and picking on him like a mother does as well). I always thought they had a strange relationship, but an important one. Sirius loves Lily; not like James does, of course, but as someone that is important in his life, (and frankly, whom he relies on). I'm very anxious for Sirius and Callandra to meet. But I decided... you must wait. : )

* * *

The rest of the day was utterly crummy. Callandra and Alethea were holed up together in Callandra's room, each secretly furious and/or depressed, and the more each tried to conceal it, the more they seemed to generate a fouler mutual mood. They each tried to make light of the situation, but to no avail. Ironically, cynical Alethea managed to be brighter than the optimistic and sweet Callandra. Callandra was impacted rather differently by the news than Alethea. She felt like it was an end to something. An end, maybe, to her career. Her independence, her wonderful 'on-her-owness' was gone. She was going to be married; married to a man who could probably never care for her or give her any sort of promise for love, and in return, she would have to give up her performing, move out of the Leaky Cauldron, and keep house for some grouchy miser. Why? How? Who?

Alethea left around five, proclaiming that she had to go and kill something and that Callandra would probably prefer that it wasn't her. After Alethea disappeared with a crack, Callandra flopped back on her bed. What in the world was she going to do? What was going to become of her? A tear leaked out of her eye, and another followed it, and then another. Before she knew it, she was sobbing. Weakly, she slid off of her bed and onto the hard, unforgiving floor. She wept unabashedly into the crook of her arm. Married? Married?

She felt numb. "_The Ministry has chosen to keep the reasons for this law undisclosed until further notice". _

"I can't even know why?" she whispered tearfully.

"I can't even know why?" she stated, louder and more angry. She stood abruptly, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her clothes were rumpled from lying on the floor, and her hair had since come down, limp and messy around her red, distressed face. She unexpectedly lunged and grabbed whatever was nearest to her, and threw it at her reflection. The glass shattered, breaking both mirror and vase, and Callandra's legs melted from beneath her again. She heard a soft creak. The door had parted slightly, to reveal a tired and sympathetic old man. It was Tom. Callandra looked up at him hopelessly; she couldn't even feel embarrassed for the state that he had caught her in.

He softly crossed the room, his worn old shoes making little shuffling noises as he approached her. He knelt beside her and placed a parchment at her feet.

"It's from the Ministry," he murmured quietly. She looked at the envelope blankly, as if she couldn't comprehend it. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Callandra, I know that this is hard for you," he started. She didn't acknowledge him.

"But, I think that things are going to turn out well for you." No response.

"I'm going to make a cup of hot tea and leave it outside your door, and after you read this letter, I want you to drink it. Then, I want you to lift up your chin," he said, placing his finger there, and lifting it so that his eyes and hers met. She seemed to be paying a little attention to him.

"You're a strong girl, Callandra Papadimitrou. I've seen you go through things that most people don't experience until they're hardened adults, and I've seen you shine. You're not the only one dealing with this, Callandra. There are girls all over the world having to get married right now because the Ministry is forcing them to," he said sternly. Callandra seemed to be understanding him. Her eyes shimmered with tears, and a whimper escaped her mouth.

"Put things in perspective. I know I'm just a crusty old man, but I know some things about hearts. You've got a good one, Miss. Don't let bitterness from some little thing like this shrivel it up. Remember that," he said, getting to his feet. He retreated a couple of steps before she whimpered softly,

"But it's so hard." He turned to face her again, and looked at her steadily.

"I know it is," he nodded.

"I know that this throws a curve in your road that you weren't expecting, but nevertheless, you have to drive, Callandra. If you brake the car, then you stop going somewhere, don't you?" he asked her, a little smile creeping onto his face. She gave a watery laugh.

"What do you know about cars?" she asked him jokingly.

"Are you kidding me, missy?" he jabbed back.

"I know everything there is to know about cars! I see about five thousand a day, driving past my barroom window," he said, taking a few more steps towards the door. He opened it and stepped outside, but paused and looked back in.

"Keep driving, Callandra. You have a lot of gas," he laughed. He shut the door behind him, and Callandra heard his feet shuffle down the hallway back into the noisy uproar that was still going on. She picked up the parchement in front of her and stood up. She wiped the tears off of her cheeks, and sat down on the tired, faded quilt. She slid her icy, slender finger under the official, red wax seal and broke it. Methodically drawing it out, she unfolded first the top half, then the bottom and spread it out over her lap, smoothing the thick creases.

Dear Miss Callandra Melanie Papadimitrou,

We at the newly formed Department for Arranged Marriages are obliged to inform you that your future spouse will be Sirius Orion Black. This choice was made purely through random lottery, and as is required by the law, you and Mr. Black must be joined in matrimony within 10 days time. We wish you the best of luck in your marriage.

_Evangaline Corres_

Head of the Department for Arranged Marriages

Callandra felt as if someone had just clubbed her over the head with a Beater's bat. Sirius Black? She read over the letter again. Yes, and it hadn't been delivered to the wrong person; there was her name, right at the top. _Me? Callandra Papadimitrou with Sirius Black? _It was impossible. He probably didn't even know who in the world she was! Had probably never even seen her face! She sighed and closed her eyes, which threatened to well over again with tears. She didn't know what she was crying for. Her tears were a mixture of sweet and sad; relief and dissapointment. She wondered what was going through his head right now. Was he wracking his brain to think of who his future bride was? Was he remembering the time she said "excuse me" to him? Or was he downing a glass of firewhiskey?

The latter. _We women cry our brains out, and the men drink them away.

* * *

_

Sirius threw back his head and took another burning shot of firewhiskey. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and he looked rough. He hadn't left the house all day, but rather Lily and James had come over to try and ease the shock. Lily bustled around in his stark and unused kitchen, rustling up a massive pot of stew while a tart baked.

"I know that cherry tarts are your favorite, so I'm making some for you," she said brightly. He smiled at her. She had a blue apron on, with flour spilled down the front. Her red hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and her sleeves were rolled up. He couldn't help but smile at the picture she made, with her eyes shining and her smile bubbling over. James alternated between sympathy with his best mate, and a cheery content glance at his lovely wife. Sirius wondered, would his wife be like that? Would she be bright, and cheerful, always there to make the day better, or make him a cherry tart?

Lily put a vase of wild roses on the table, and called the boys off the couch to come and eat up.

"She acts like a mum already," Sirius muttered to James. James shot him a stern look.

"Shut it, Padfoot," he grumbled.

"No bickering over whatever it is. We're all going to eat pleasantly, and enjoy this evening," Lily said, calling the boys off of their dispute.

"I'll be as pleasant as I can, Lily-pad," Sirius told her. She smiled symathetically at him.

"It will all turn out all right, Sirius. Just wait and see," she said encouragingly. She patted him on the shoulder and then moved back into the kitchen. She ladled stew out for them all, and then set a plate of bread and butter on the table.

"Who wants something to drink?" she asked.

"Firewhiskey here, please," Sirius said.

"No more for you. I think you've had quite enough," she said firmly. She considered for a moment.

"Tea it is then," she said, then poked around in his empty cabinets to find mugs and tea bags.

They were interrupted by a tapping on the kitchen window. Sirius' head snapped around to look and see an owl, hovering there with a letter attached round the ankle.

"That's it," he said. James looked at him expectantly.

"Aren't you going to get it?" he asked.

"I'm still deciding," Sirius said sourly. Lily brushed right past him and threw back the sash, letting the owl flutter in.

"For Heaven's Sake, Sirius, you can't just leave the poor owl out there! He's only the messenger. At least take the letter and let him be on his way. I'm sure he's needed back at the Ministry," Lily said practically. She untied the parchment from the owls leg, let him nimble some bread crumbs from her hand, and sent him out the window again.

"Shut the damn window, Lily! It's cold out there!" James said, looking at the bleak, miserable gray sky.

"Watch the language, Mr. Potter," Lily said bossily, slamming the window shut.

"You can open the letter after supper, Sirius," she said kindly, turning to him.

"No." Sirius surprised them both with his statement.

"Pardon?" James said.

"No, I'll open it now," he said. Lily looked at him with a furrowed brow and crooked frown.

"Are you sure? You don't have to, you can wait for half an hour and eat and then..." she argued.

"Whether or not I open it now, Lily, I have to know. I'm practically dying to know, and practically dying to not know. I'll just get it over with," he said resolutely.

"Are you absolut-" she began again, hovering between the countertop and the kitchen table.

"Yes," he cut her off. "I'm certain." Lily tentatively padded over to the countertop, where she had placed the letter. She took it into her small hand and crossed over to Sirius slowly. She handed the letter to him. He looked at it for a moment, befre sliding his thumb briskly through it and unfolding it haphazardly.

Dear Mr. Sirius Orion Black,

We at the newly formed Department for Arranged Marriages are obliged to inform you that your future spouse will be Callandra Melanie Papadimitrou. This choice was made purely through random lottery, and as is required by the law, you and Miss Papadimitrou must be joined in matrimony within 10 days time. We wish you the best of luck in your marriage.

_Evangaline Corres_

Head of the Department for Arranged Marriages

"Callandra," he said aloud, tilting his head to one side. Lily snatched the letter from him. She smiled.

"Oh, Sirius! I told you everything would work out alright! And it has!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Who is she?" he asked confused.

"She is the sweetest thing! She was a year behind us in Ravenclaw, but she was a prefect. She can be rather shy, but she is very, very beautiful and very good-natured. I don't think you could have gotten luckier, Sirius!" Lily explained happily.

"I thought I'd dated every girl between our year and two below," he mused, wracking his brain.

"Not Callandra, I'm sure," Lily said with pursed lips. "I honestly think that you're getting the better end of the deal in this," she said.

"Hey!" James said in his friend's defense.

"Alright, alright," Lily corrected. "That was a little harsh, but..." Lily kept going on, but Sirius was no longer listening. He pushed back his chair and walked to the wall where his cloak hung on a peg. He pocketed the letter, and snatched the roses out of the vase on the table. Lily trailed off and stared at him.

"Whatever are you doing?" she inquired.

"I'm going to see her," he explained.

"See her?"

"Yeah. We're getting married within little more than a week. I've never seen her before. We're both absolutely miserable right now, I guarantee. I'm going to see her. We might as well get off on the right foot, and during our period of," (he cringed), "marriage, we should at least get along and be friends."

"Here," Lily said, sprinting back into the kitchen. Sirius puzzled at what she was doing. She came out from behind the counter and handed him a warm, blue and white checked cloth. Sirius laughed. Lily smiled.

"Share this with her."

* * *

Callandra was still wearing her clothes from earlier in the day, but she was sound asleep, under her blanket, with her letter tucked in her hand. She had been so exhausted after all her crying, that she just wilted within a quarter of an hour. Cold tea sat ouside her door, but Tom didn't blame her for not getting it. He peeked inside and saw her, peacefully sleeping, and didn't have the heart to wake her. Instead, he crept inside and tucked her in. He looked over and saw the mess of glass shards at her vanity. He withdrew his wand from his apron and repaired both the vase and mirror, setting the vase on her dresser. He exited the room, and picked up the teacup, meandering quietly back down the hallway and into the bar. When he got there, he was glad to see that everyone was gone. Except for one young man, standing in the doorway looking slightly lost. He was mildly wet from a sudden outburst of rain, and he had a bunch of roses hanging at his side, and a large blue and white napkin in his other hand. 

"Can I help you, sir?" Tom asked.

"I'm looking for a Callandra Pa- Papa-" he fumbled with the words, while glancing at a parchment in his hand. Tom looked at it. It had an official Ministry seal on it. _This was Callandra's future husband. _

"Papadimitrou," he finished.

"Yes," the young man said, looking relieved that he finally knew how to pronounce it.

"She's in number 7. She's asleep right now, but I reckon she'll be pleased you came," Tom said, offering him a small smile.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, and made his way towards the hallway.

Sirius tapped on the door with a faded 7 on it.

--

Callandra heard a noise outside her door.

--

Sirius waited, looking down at his feet in anxious anticipation.

--

Callandra pulled the quilt off of her, and swung her tired body out of the bed.

--

Sirius rapped on the door again, a little louder.

--

Callandra looked at her face in the mirror. She was pale, but looked fine.

--

Sirius tried to divert his attention to no avail.

--

Callandra walked towards the door.

--

Sirius raised his fist to knock again-

--

Callandra opened the door. Sirius Black was in front of her, his hand raised in midair to knock.


End file.
